


The Case of a Broken Person

by livingonyoghurtandspite



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, Melancholic Ending, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, TW Mentions of Self-Harm, TW mentions of self-hatred, There's a ferris wheel, and cotton candy, bev knows something's up, but they kiss so you know, not as lighthearted as you might think tho, oh boi, surprise bitch they're at a fair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingonyoghurtandspite/pseuds/livingonyoghurtandspite
Summary: “What’s so funny?” Eddie asks. Lights dance across his face; green and red and blue.“You’re like the opposite of a beacon.” Richie says.Eddie looks confused at that. “What?”“You’re too bright. Instead of helping people you only inconvenience them and attract unwanted attention.”“Unwanted attention like you?” Eddie shoots back, a grin on his face.Richie grins as well. “Except for me of course.Eddie huffs out a laugh and leans back in his seat, watching the city below them. “You think too highly of yourself.” He mutters at last.Richie is quiet for a moment. He looks at Eddie, his face is still enveloped in color. Red and green. “Nah,” he says “I don’t”I really don’t.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 108





	The Case of a Broken Person

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really like this but it's not going to get any better so here you go.  
> Trigger Warning: mentions of self-hatred & self-harm (I know it's in the tags but just to be sure)  
> Enjoy i guess

Slow down you’re doing fine

You can’t be everything you want to be before your time

Although it’s so romantic on the borderline tonight

____

Vienna – Billy Joel

The fair is in town, and Richie can’t wait to go.

He is wearing his best shirt with his best jacket. Leather over obnoxiously colorful flowers. He grabs his cigarettes from where he hid them under the bed and leaves the house without saying goodbye to his parents, slamming the front door shut as loudly as possible. That would be indication enough for them that he left.

The sun is setting - orange sky. Richie lights a cigarette - orange flame - and starts walking.

____

The other Losers are already waiting for him by the time he arrives.

“You’re late!” Bev calls when she sees him. They are standing in front of the entrance that’s marked by a large arch made out of bright lights and metal.

“Time is a construct of human perception!” Richie shouts back, dropping his cigarette and closing the distance between them. 

“And my perception tells me that we had to wait almost twenty minutes for you.” Stan says with an annoyed look, his voice lacking its usual sarcasm. He turns towards the entrance and starts walking without giving Richie time to answer. The others nod in agreement, following him.

One by one they pass beneath the arch, leaving the dark night sky behind them, entering a world of colors and lights instead. Richie watches them go and it’s like seeing them transform in front of his eyes, as if the atmosphere that lies beyond the arch makes them more open to the world around them. As if the bright and colorful lights told them that it is alright to be bright and colorful themselves.

Richie eyes the arch, the portal to a world of light, and goes around it. 

He jogs up to the others and squeezes himself between Eddie and Bev, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. “Well,” he starts, pointing a finger at Stan who still looks thoroughly pissed off “considering my perception, I’m not late. You guys are just too early.”

Stan huffs and looks away.

_Alright! The cold shoulder it is!_

Next to him, Eddie takes Richie’s arm and drapes it more comfortably around his shoulder.

Bev snickers so Richie elbows her in the side, pushing her towards Ben who then bumps into Bill.

“It’s more likely for one person to be late than for six to be early.” Eddie says, recapturing Richie’s attention. He pauses, and then, as if he didn’t bring his point across properly, ads “statistically speaking.”

“Well Spaghetti, your statistics are shit so I won’t take them into consideration.” He pulls him closer and ruffles his hair, letting go when Eddie starts to kick at him.

“It’s one against six. You can’t win this Richie.” Mike says and Richie gasps dramatically.

“That’s called oppression!” he shouts, clutching his chest.

“It’s called democracy.” Ben says quietly and Richie gasps again.

“Even you Ben? You wound me.”

“You’re all idiots.” Stan mumbles but he’s trying to hide a smile.

____

They plunge deeper into this world of colors. Shooting fake rifles and eating too salty popcorn, all the while being trailed by a shadow that lingers above the water, too scared to jump and dive as well.

The colors blend together in front of Richie’s eyes and all he sees are pieces of a world he can’t be part of. He sees green and red and blue, sees cotton candy and blinking lights and people walking away from him. He thinks he sees a circus tent but in front of it is a carousel and it goes ‘round and ‘round, and ‘round and ‘round.

**_Welcome ladies and gentlemen! We are happy to have you here with us on this wonderful evening! Without further ado, let us introduce you to our main attraction for today! He has been part of our little group for all his life! His skills at hiding his emotions behind dumb jokes are just phenomenal, you will see! Our audience loves him! Everybody loves him! As long as he plays his part! And he will play his part! Because he’s too scared to commit to his feelings! And justifiably so! Because he knows that they can’t find out! They can’t find out that he is in love with Eddie Kaspbrak! Our audience loves him! Everybody loves him! Let us welcome Richie Tozier!_ **

**_Richie is standing on a stage. Lights are burning into his eyes. He can see the audience. Heads without faces. Bodies without heads. Empty seats. There is no audience._ **

**_He takes the microphone and speaks “I hate myself.”_ **

“What?”

Richie looks to his right. Eddie is still standing next to him, eating his cotton candy. It sticks to his fingers, his mouth. “What, what?”

“What did you say? I didn’t get it.” Eddie says, looking at him expectantly. He gnaws at his fingers, trying to get rid of the crystalized sugar. Licks over his lips.

_I hate myself._

**_You have an audience!_ **

“I was just talking about all the things I’m planning on doing with your mom tonight.” Richie says. The lies come effortlessly, years of practice. No, not just practice, it hurts to speak the truth. Like something inside of him rips his organs apart every time he tries. Not that he ever tried. He still feels like ripping himself apart. “But you know.” He continuous, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders “I could cancel my date with your mom, Spaghetti” Leans closer, and whispers “if you’re willing to keep me entertained instead.”

The answer he gets is an elbow to his stomach and Eddie’s retreating figure holding up his middle finger. “You’re gross!” he screams.

_I am._

“How can you say that if you didn’t even have a taste of this yet?” Richie points at his body, using wide gestures to capture everything that stands in relation to this. Eddie scrunches up his nose in disgust and throws away the remainders of his cotton candy, ignoring Richie all the while. “Come on Eds,” he says looping one arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer “I know you love my body.”

“No, I do not.” Eddie retorts, trying to escape Richie’s grasp to no avail.

Richie decidedly ignores him “you can be glad we are not living in the middle ages anymore. There would have been wars because of my beauty.”

“I sometimes think we are still living in the middle ages considering your personal hygiene.” 

“Why are you thinking about my personal hygiene?”

“Because it is impossible not to whenever you’re closer to me than ten feet.”

“Oh, come on it can’t be that bad. You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Richie says pulling him closer. Eddie squirms and Richie, feeling merciful, finally let’s go. He scrambles away from him, walking off in a hurried pace into the direction where the other Losers were crowding around a booth. Richie follows him, his cheeks stained red and pink from the colorful lights around him. The color changes – blue and pink.

____

Walking up to them, he squeezes himself between Bill and Bev to get a better look. Bev throws a ball and the cans fall to the ground.

_Like a leave fluttering to the floor._

**_Like a body hitting the pavement._ **

_I wouldn’t._

**_Coward._ **

Dazed he takes a step back. He feels hot. Like the clothes he’s wearing are too warm and the summer air tightens around him, leaving him gasping for breath, feeling the need to get away like a fire burning in his chest.

_Not now._

Richie starts to fumble with the collar of his shirt, opening the first button, desperately trying to get rid of this feeling that everything is too tight, too warm. He takes off his jacket and the wind does absolutely nothing to cool him down. Again, he grabs at his collar and pulls it further away from his throat, letting his hands rest at the nape of his neck when it doesn’t help. They’re cold, his hands.

His hands are cold, and his chest is burning, and he desperately wants a cigarette right now.

The others are still standing in front of the booth. Bev and Mike are shouting something at Bill and Eddie, and Ben is throwing a ball and the cans collapse and then everybody is screaming, but it all melds together and the only thing that feels real is the fire inside of him. Bright and burning and hurting without actually burning anything except for his mind which keeps repeating the same words over and over.

_I want out I want out-_

**_You are already out._ **

_Shut up!_

**_Well, outside as in under the sky, at least._ **

“Hey guys?” Richie says and it sounds chocked and quiet, so he tries again, “Guys!” They hear him this time, turning around. “I’m gonna have a cigarette. I’ll be back in a minute.” He thinks Eddie wants to say something, but he already turned around, disappearing in the mass of people. He’s careful not to touch anybody, the contact making him feel hotter than he already is and the warmth inside of him presses down on his lungs and he still can’t breathe.

Nonetheless he presses on until the groups of people thin out to a person standing around here and there and then he’s alone. Alone in an open field with darkness surrounding him and nobody there but himself to listen to the voice in his head.

Richie lights a cigarette and his hands are shaking but he’s had worse, so come on, get a fucking grip!

The voice is still loud, the cigarette not helping in calming him down. It’s shouting and it sounds like ideas that you can’t get out of your head, or memories of events that didn’t really happen; pictures flashing, too fast to hold on to them, not sure if you would even want to if you got the chance.

The cigarette doesn’t help, and Richie desperately wants it all to be quiet because everything inside of him hurts. Like his blood is made out of glass and it rips his veins apart, cuts his skin open from the inside out but most importantly the cigarette isn’t helping. So, he presses it against the palm of his hand and it still hurts but the pain is different because he knows why it’s there. It feels real, grounds him, and slowly the world starts to calm down.

The shards that cut through his body, the pieces of his mind that he wasn’t able to control any longer, are covering his feet. He leaves a trail of red blood wherever he goes. Invisible to an outside observer but painfully obvious to Richie himself, to the point where it’s impossible to think about anything else. His mind digs into his skin and rips it apart.

**_And it’s your fault._ **

_What did I do?_

**_That’s not a question you ask when you throw a rock at something you know will break._ **

Richie sighs _. I never knew it was that fragile._

He lets the cigarette fall to his feet and wipes his hands on his trousers. It hurts, the small spot where the fire burned away his skin. But it makes the voice in his head stop screaming, makes reality seem clearer. It never actually goes away, and it probably never will, considering that he can’t remember a time without it. It has always been there, in the back of his mind, whispering. The only thing that’s different is the anger. Sure, the voice has been angry before, but never at itself, never at Richie.

It’s like standing in front of a mirror and shouting at oneself to finally get your shit together you’re better off dead anyway!

He would never direct this anger at others, wouldn’t tolerate people telling him that. He would probably beat them up. But isn’t that the irony in all of this? The punchline that make the joke so funny?

_I beat myself up. I threw a rock at my fucking self._

He digs his fingers deeper into his wound, and the anger subsides. Leaves him standing hollow and empty in front of a broken and bleeding mirror.

**_Fix it. Do it for him._ **

_I don’t know how._

**_You are made of shards. Touch him and he’ll bleed too._ **

____

He gets back to the others eyeing him with concerned looks.

“I just really wanted a cig right now.” He says, “No need to worry about me.”

They don’t look convinced and Eddie opens his mouth to say something but Richie cuts him off “Can we ride the Ferris wheel? I wanted to since we came here.” With that he turns around and walks away. He knows they won’t try to ask again; they never do.

____

“I’m g-going with Bev.” Bill says pointing at the Ferris wheel, a small blush staining his cheeks. Richie looks at their intertwined hands, back up at Bill and then at the other Losers who are all wearing the same expressions, except for Ben.

Nobody answers him so he does it in their stead “Who would have thought?” Bill’s blush deepens. Poor Ben.

“I’m with Stan.” Mike says at the same as Eddie blurts “Richie and I are going.” They all look at Ben who is looking at the ground with an expression that makes Richie feel hallow and empty inside.

“You can go with us!” he hurries to say but Ben has already left the line.

“No, it’s ok,” he starts, carefully avoiding eye contact “I don’t really like Ferris wheels all that much anyway. You go, I’ll wait here.”

“Next!” the attendant shouts, annoyance and exasperation clear in his voice.

They hesitate, not wanting for Ben to have to stay behind.

“Hurry up, kids! There are others waiting!”

Stan shoots Ben one last glance before taking Mike’s sleeve and pulling him towards the Ferris wheel, getting into the cabin.

Richie turns his attention back to Ben who’s still not making eye contact, still looking crestfallen. “You can go with us.” He repeats “Right Eds?” Richie turns to look at Eddie, a small smile playing over his lips, but Eddie isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at Bev with an expression Richie can’t quite read.

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie finally says, and it sounds… disappointed?

“Next!”

He hears Bev sighing and sees her taking Ben’s hand, pulling him back into the line. She grabs Bill’s hand as well and pulls them both towards the waiting cabin of the Ferris wheel, pushing them into the seat before squeezing herself in between them.

“Erh,” comes the startled voice from the attendant “I can’t let you do that.”

“Sure, you can!” Bev shoots back, smiling up at him.

“No, there are too many people in the cabin. One of you has to get out.”

“But none of us will.” She says, reaching up and pulling the protection down.

The attendant looks at her with tired eyes “I’m not getting paid enough for this.” He mumbles and walks back to the controls, setting the Ferris wheel in motion again.

Bev leans forward in her seat and gives Eddie a thumbs up. Next to her Ben and Bill exchange glances, both looking like they are in various stages of discomfort.

Richie looks at Eddie who has his face buried in his hands “What was that about?” he asks making him groan.

“Next!”

Eddie starts walking towards the cabin without answering and sits down. Richie lets himself fall into the seat next to him and pulls the protection close. The attendant presses a button and sets the Ferris wheel in motion.

They leave the colorful lights under them behind and wander towards the ones above them instead. The stars welcome them with open arms, draping them in a light of their own. The light of the stars is gentler than the one coming from the lamps that hide behind stained glass. They meet in the middle and even each other out, like two waves colliding.

Richie looks down and his head spins. The rapidly changing color of the Ferris wheel is reflecting off its metal construction, making the lights shoot off into a whole different direction from where they initially came.

It wouldn’t be a long fall. But then again it isn’t the falling people are afraid of. It’s inevitably hitting the ground and shattering into a million pieces, staining the floor with the memories of a broken person.

Broken like his world. Richie just threw the rock that made everything finally fall apart. The mirror broke, and the shards fell to the ground, destroying the image he had of himself in its wake. Now they lie beneath him and he is surrounded by a sea of shards, sailing a ship that is slowly sinking.

It’s a slow descend. Observing it from the outside would be boring, the change so subtle it would be viewed as permanent. Until the whole ship was swallowed by the water and you ask yourself if it was ever there at all. Until everybody on it was dead.

Richie looks at Eddie. Colorful lights dance across his face. Green and blue and red and blue. A beacon in the night sky, guiding him through the darkness.

Richie laughs. _A beacon guiding me through the darkness? Then why did my fucking ship crash in the first place?_

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re like the opposite of a beacon.”

Eddie looks confused at that. “What?”

“You’re too bright. Instead of helping people you only inconvenience them and attract unwanted attention.”

“Unwanted attention like you?” Eddie shoots back, a grin on his face.

Richie grins as well, he feels like ripping himself apart. _Exactly like me._

“Except for me of course.

Eddie huffs out a laugh and leans back in his seat, watching the city below them. “You think too highly of yourself.” He mutters at last.

Richie is quiet for a moment. He looks at Eddie, his face is still enveloped in color. Red and green. “Nah,” he says “I don’t”

_I really don’t._

____

The Ferris wheel stops, and they get out. They are back on the ground, again surrounded by artificial lights with no time to say goodbye to the stars.

The other Losers are standing in front of the exit of the Ferris wheel, effectively hindering anybody from leaving.

Richie looks up at the sky. The moon stands high, slowly crossing the invisible border that lies between one day and another. And as the moon calls a close to this day, so do the people working at the fair.

One by one the booths close their windows, the lights are being turned off; red and blue and dark. The carousel stops. And the Losers make their way home.

They leave as they came, walking beneath the arch, and this time they enter a grey world with the bright lights at their backs. Richie walks with them this time, and if the brightness lingers even after they left the fair behind them, he doesn’t notice.

The streets are empty and behind the windows the curtains are drawn, leaving them with the flickering light of the streetlamps. They walk in the middle of the road, each of them saying their goodbyes, until Richie and Eddie are the only ones left. Two figures casting shadows across pavements and parked cars.

Richie’s house lies in the opposite direction from where they are going, but Eddie doesn’t mention it, so he doesn’t either.

They turn into the next street and Eddie stops walking. Ahead of them lie houses, all of them with dark windows, all except for one and it stands out against the blackness like…

Richie frowns.

“I don’t want to go home.” Eddie says and he’s looking at the stars and Richie is not, is looking at him instead.

“Your mom is gonna have a heart attack if you don’t.”

“So let her.”

He laughs and Eddie smiles.

“Wanna sleep at my place?” Richie mumbles; quiet, uncertain.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

They turn around, both of them dark like the night around them.

____

The lights behind the windows of Richie’s house are turned off and when he opens the door silence is the only thing that greets them.

**_Welcome home to a world of nothingness._ **

They slip out of their shoes and make their way to Richie’s room as quietly as possible, letting out a breath they’ve been holding when they close the door behind them. Richie turns on the light and is instantly met with the feeling of regret as the brightness burns its way into his eyes. Considering Eddie’s hissed exclamations of pain and “what the fuck, Richie.”, he doesn’t fare better.

Eddie brushes his teeth and Richie does as well because Eddie wouldn’t shut up about his personal hygiene, or his lack thereof.

After that they go to bed. Eddie lying next to the wall, wearing a shirt Richie gave him that is decidedly too big on him while Richie is nearly falling of the bed because **_you can’t get too close._**

He turns around and turns the light off, stays like this, his back facing Eddie. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, tries not to listen to Eddie adjusting the covers or his breathing. And as silence settles over them, Richie’s mind begins to shout.

It’s impossible to make out what the voice is saying but it’s too loud to fall asleep, too loud to breathe, just way too loud. He digs his fingers into his burned skin and the pain fills out his head, eradicating every other thought. And when he opens his hand again the only thing that remains is calm silence.

Richie closes his eyes, and he thinks that now he’ll be able to sleep.

“Richie?”

Or not.

Eddie whispers it, his voice so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been paying attention. But Richie was paying attention. Always paying attention to Eddie and what he said. What he did. Not matter how much he tried to tell himself that he doesn’t. Because it gave him something to think about, something other than his own existence. Eddie was the perfect distraction from life.

“What?” he asks, a little louder.

Eddie doesn’t answer and the quiet stretches out between them. Settles over them like a blanket of nothingness and unspoken words.

“Eds?” Richie says and turns slightly, looking over his shoulder. He has his face buried in Richie’s pillow, isn’t looking at him.

Eddie takes a long breath. “It’s nothing forget I said anything.” The words are rushed, all of them spilling out in one long exhale.

“No, tell me.” Richie turns around fully, facing Eddie. His eyes are closed, and one side of his face is still pressed into the pillow. He looks like he’s panicking, so Richie panics too. “Hey,” he says softly, concern bleeding through his voice. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“No, I can’t.”

“I won’t judge you.” He says, trying to sound casual. “We’ve been through too much shit together for there to be anything that could change how I think about you.”

Eddie opens his eyes at that.

Comforting words. Oh, how he wishes someone would tell him that.

Richie smiles and Eddie does the same. It’s small but there nonetheless. Something to hold onto in the darkness of Richie’s room.

_Not a beacon._

**_Careful or you’re going to cut yourself._ **

Eddie inhales. Exhales. Inhales again. And Richie lets him. _You have all the time in the world,_ he thinks _, I will make sure of that. Take mine if you don’t have enough._

And Eddie speaks, “I’m in love with you.”

And Richie feels like drowning. Drowning in a sea of shards, now that the ship finally sank. The water rips his lungs apart.

_That’s not fair. I needed those._

Richie blinks “You’re kidding.”

Eddie’s face falls, shifting into something sad and angry, and he sits up abruptly, climbing over Richie, trying to get out of his bed. “Forget I said anythin-“ his voice hitches on the last word, getting higher before suddenly cutting off. The promise of tears.

Richie grabs Eddie’s arm and pulls him back down. “I-“ he starts but the words won’t come. Lying has always been easier.

Eddie wipes at his eyes and sniffs “You don’t have to say anything. Just let go and I’ll leave.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It’s barely even a whisper. He can feel his own eyes starting to sting.

Eddie laughs at that, wet and quiet and broken. “You could never.”

**You are made of shards.**

“I couldn’t?

Eddie shakes his head. “Never.”

Richie lifts his hand, carefully touching Eddie’s face. And he doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t scream, doesn’t bleed. He doesn’t do any of the things Richie thought he would. How could he ever?

“I believe you.” Richie says. He leans closer and he can feel Eddie doing the same. He’s got his eyes closed; they still sting, but he doesn’t care if he starts crying. Eddie is crying too after all. And who would see their tears with their heads underwater?

_Drowning isn’t that bad._

Their lips meet and the kiss is sweet.

The voice in his head is blessedly silent, he can only hear his own, and it keeps repeating one sentence.

Richie pulls away. He’s tired of lying. Not just to others but to himself as well. This was never something that could have hurt, it was never wrong.

“I’m in love with you as well.”

Something inside of him still rips. _I’ll have to get used to that._

Eddie smiles and it’s bright, radiant.

Like a light in a theater, helping him perform.

He kisses him again and this time it tastes like salt. Sweet salt that Richie can’t get enough of. He hiccups into the kiss, the tears streaming freely down his face now that the dam finally broke.

Eddie pulls away, breaking the kiss but trapping Richie in a hug instead. He’s too exhausted to complain, his breathing erratic and his face wet.

“Thank you.” Richie chokes out.

Eddie is rubbing small circles across his back. “For what?” he mumbles into his neck, stopping.

“For loving me back.”

Silence, again, but this time it’s for finding words, not for letting them be left unspoken. “No” Eddie finally says. He takes Richie’s hand, the one with the burn wound, the one where the world left its mark. He guides it to his mouth, kisses it better. “This was never about loving you back. Only ever about loving you.”

_Richie is standing on a stage again. The lights are still blinding, he’s still holding a microphone. He looks down at his feet. They are covered in blood, staining the floor beneath him red and when he turns around, he can see his footprints, the path he walked and the actions that brought him here. But for the first time in his life it doesn’t hurt. He’s still drowning but he can breathe._

_Richie looks up. The seats are empty, so he says “I… hate myself.”_

_One seat wasn’t empty. There’s applause and it echoes through the empty rows. One person enthusiastically clapping their hands. They’re smiling._

_So Richie continues, “But that’s ok.”_

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> If you noticed any mistakes I may have made please tell me!  
> yes the bold/cursive thing changes, thanks for noticing  
> I also have a tumblr now https://livingonyoghurtandspite.tumblr.com/ (wow)


End file.
